


Out of the Mouths of Fools and Prophets

by misura



Category: FlashForward
Genre: M/M, Post-Canon, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-05
Updated: 2013-08-05
Packaged: 2017-12-24 03:40:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/934874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misura/pseuds/misura
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life goes on. (post-canon)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Out of the Mouths of Fools and Prophets

The second black out changes things, but not too much.

"Lloyd and Olivia, sitting in a tree, K-I-S- "

People ask each other again: _what did you see?_. Wedeck asks Mark again: _are you sure about this?_ , whenever he wants to do something that might very well cost Wedeck his job if it doesn't pan out.

"Shut up, will you." He's still got his wall, but it's slowly beginning to take over the floor and the ceiling as well. "Or at least change your tune."

Gabriel straightens his glasses - a pointless effort, since Mark knows they'll slide sideways again within seconds. It's not Gabriel's fault, really; the glasses just don't seem to go with his nose.

Life works like that sometimes, Mark guesses: sometimes, just because two things end up in the same place, and together, that doesn't mean they're a good fit. That they're going to work out in the long run.

Demetri walks in, looking harried and determined not to show it. Mark grins a 'good morning' at him, along with a 'no fooling me, buddy' and a hint of 'how'd you like to go on a coffee run?'.

"I just got here," Demetri says. He's still wearing his jacket.

"You know the rules. Last one here gets the coffee." Mark shrugs.

Vogel looks up, his expression mildly curious.

Demetri chuckles and shakes his head. "We both know there's no such rule. But nice try, buddy."

"Mark and Demetri," Gabriel sing-songs and yup, his glasses are crooked again. "Sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G."

Vogel blinks, once, then looks from Mark to Demetri and back again, as if he expects their poker faces aren't up to a bit of scrutiny by the friendly local CIA representative.

"Black, two sugars," Mark says. "Thanks, Dem."

"Welcome."

Once Demetri's left, Mark watches the way Vogel's face goes from mildly curious to deeply suspicious to casually interested.

"Not that it's any of my business, but are the two of you ...?"

"You're right," Mark says. "That is so very much none of your business. Hey, Gabriel, buddy. How about you sing a little song about our friend Vogel here, next?"

"He's a bird," Gabriel says. "Birds are scary."

Mark grins. Vogel scowls. "It's just my name. Vogel. Means 'bird' in German."

"I know," Mark says, allowing his grin to widen, as if this is actually Deeply Significant in some way.

 

("Well, that was awkward," Demetri says, a considerable number of hours later, watching Mark sip what might either be his tenth or his twentieth coffee of the day.)

("Hey," Mark says. "Not half as awkward as it's going to be if someone's going to walk in on us during the next thirty minutes or so.")


End file.
